


Mistress McGonagall

by IshtarTheUnclean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anal Sex, Child Abuse, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Cages, Coercion, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil, Femdom, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Feminization, Forced Masturbation, Girl Penis, Graphic Description, Magic Cock, Mind Rape, Mistress, Multi, Nipple Torture, Non-Consensual, Orgasm Denial, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Premature Ejaculation, Prostate Milking, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Slow Build, Wrong, bad, there IS a plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29566350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IshtarTheUnclean/pseuds/IshtarTheUnclean
Summary: Minerva McGonagall has spent the better part of her life achieving subtle yet complete control over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She will shape and form the students within her reach into productive, useful, and acceptable members of magical society; and she will use any means necessary, and if she enjoys those means? All the better.
Relationships: Minerva McGonagall/Harry Potter, More to be added - Relationship
Comments: 29
Kudos: 67





	Mistress McGonagall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter of the work I'm currently writing. It will be part of a collection of similar stories that I affectionately call "The Library of Evil Plot Bunnies" which I'll be posting as I write. As of my current plans, this story will be one of the only multi-chapter ones in the collection-- as such I'm hoping for a little feedback and would love y'all to share some of your own ideas to help give this longer format story some more diversity. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

Minerva McGonagall was many things; accomplished educator, a world-leading authority on the practical application of Transfiguration, renowned sorceress, a veteran of one muggle war and two wizarding wars, and Functional Headmistress of the foremost school for magic in the British Isles. It was this last title that, contrary to what one might expect, she was most proud of, most pleased to have attained.

Many wizards and witches in the magical community, especially the _British_ magical community, would of course be utterly shocked were they to discover just how far Mcgonagall’s control over Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry went. You see for the better part of half a century every magical had been raised with the firm belief that it was the venerable Albus Dumbledore who ruled over the ancient institution— instilling in their children the sort of passion for knowledge and wonder for magic that had lead Dumbledore to becoming one of the most famous wizards in several centuries.

The truth however was far different from this lofty fiction which magical England believed. Dumbledore was a great many things, but an impassioned and interested bureaucrat was not one of them. Power held no allure to him, and as such despite his lofty titles and the many responsibilities foisted upon him by the magical community, he spent most of his days boarded up in the heavily warded Headmaster’s Office delving deep into the hidden and unexplored secrets of magic.

In her youth, soon after rising to the position of Deputy Headmistress, Minerva had been shocked and horrified that Dumbledore expected her to not only teach one of the most complex and potentially lethal magical disciplines and attend to her duties as head of Gryffindor House but _also_ in effect run the entire school. However, that shock and horror disappeared quickly from Minerva, replaced by a level of fulfillment and satisfaction which she’d never believed was possible. This was due to the simple reality that, unlike Dumbledore, Minerva loved power. Not the loud sort of power which wizards so often gravitated to— rather it was the subtle control of the ebb and flow of the very thoughts of others that she craved. And no position made attaining and exercising that power easier than that of Deputy Headmistress.

It had taken her the better part of a decade to bring order to Hogwarts. She had begun first with her own classroom where it was expected of her to exercise a certain control over her students. In no time at all the transfiguration classrooms were the only rooms in the castle aside from the library where studious silence ruled supreme. She tolerated no tomfoolery or petty arguments— both were dealt with through severe and expansive punishments, usually in the form of detentions during which she eagerly set about learning the best ways to ‘reeducate’ a rowdy or uncouth youth. Nor would there be any wild wand-waving or shouted incantations within her sight; magic was the very epitome of control and she refused to see it mangled or mismanaged— students would do it right or not at all. 

The taming of her house came next, though this time she chose more subtle means of control; lest the wild and spontaneous nature of those within it turn into rebellion in the face of too obvious a dictator. 

Rather than direct control, she chose to bring Gryffindor to heel through subtle enchantments and manipulations. She distanced herself from them, forcing the higher years to assume roles of responsibility in guiding and aiding the lower years. She rewarded restraint and decorum with rare smiles and small words of affirmation. 

In no time the house had fallen in line, remade into a no less loud and energetic, but far more controllable group.

Only then did Minerva turn her attention to Hogwarts itself. Her reforms began with a reduction in the powers of other professors to take extensive action such as changing the charter so that all requests for the intervention of the Board of Governors had to pass over her desk first. The elimination of weekend visitation by parents. The tightening of dress and conduct codes. 

Slowly but surely Hogwarts had come to heel, with her as its benevolent Mistress. 

In other words, Minerva was content and secure in her powers. It was in this state that the 1991-1992 school year began, with the fanfare of the famous “boy-who-lived” attending for his first year. 

The moment she laid eyes on the boy, memories flashed bright and fast before Minerva’s eyes— though none watching her would guess as she began her usual speech on the house system and sorting. He was the very picture of his father, a student who held a special place in Minerva’s heart. James Potter had come to Hogwarts as one of the most wild and unrefined she had ever encountered, matched only by his year mate and best friend Sirius Black. Oh, how those two had resisted her control. 

She allowed herself a small smile as the memories of so many happy nights spent training the little devils came bubbling to the surface. It had taken her almost all seven years of their education to truly bring those two to heel. And as if to top even that accomplishment, she’d been able to send them off into the world firmly under the heel of the fiery Lily Evans— who’d proven herself to be something of a protege of Minerva’s in far more than just magic.

Their deaths and imprisonment had, she was forced to admit, shaken Minerva. Not in herself of course, but in her faith in the world _outside_ the walls of Hogwarts, this only served to cause her to tighten the invisible grip with which she held the school. 

The subject of Harry Potter, and for that matter the entire incoming class of 1991, weighed heavily on Minerva as she sat down in her office at the end of the first week of classes to review the notes she and the other professors had taken on them. 

**_Slytherin:_ **

_Crabb, Vincent— Idiot boy, hopeless, needs tutoring, brought up in the old way._

_Goyle, Gregory— see “Crabb Vincent”_

_Zabini, Blaise— Respectful, talented in charms, quiet._

_Malfoy, Draco— entitled, disrespectful, interest in astronomy._

_Nott, Theodore— requested a tutor in Ancient Runes, request pending._

_Greengrass, Daphne— would have been great with Slughorn as head of house, too clever for her own good..._

_Parkinson, Pansy— seems to be a bully, will need to be taken in hand._

_Davis, Tracey— halfblood, parents work for muggle government, at-risk of being targeted by housemates._

_Bulstrode, Milicent— unrefined, quite adept with practical magic, difficulty in grasping theoretical concepts._

**_Ravenclaw:_ **

_Li, Su_

_Turpin, Lisa_

_Macdougal, Morag_

_Brocklehurst, Mandy_

_Patil, Padma_

_Corner, Micheal_

_Boot, Terry_

_Goldstein, Anthony_

_Entwhistle, Kevin_

_Cornfoot, Stephen_

**_Gryffindor:_ **

_Thomas, Dean_

_Finnigan, Seamus_

_Longbottom, Neville_

_Potter, Harry— disrespectful, poor posture, bad attitude, no motivation..._

_Weasley, Ron— non academic, advanced understanding of inductive reasoning and applied logic._

_Granger, Hermione— unused to personal agency, eager to prove herself, advanced comprehension of magical theory._

_Patil, Pavarti_

_Brown, Lavender_

**_Hufflepuff:_ **

_Jones, Megan_

_Moon, Leanne_

_Abbott, Hanna_

_Bones, Susan_

_Macmillan, Ernie_

_Finch-Fletchley, Hystub_

_Smith, Zacharias_

_Hopkins, Wayne_

Her attention turned easily to the section dedicated to her own house, and in turn to the name ‘ _Potter, Harry_ ’. Of its own volition, her tongue leaped out of her mouth, wetting her lips at the mere thought of the boy. He was small for his age, and Madam Pomfrey agreed that there was little doubt that he’d been abused in one way or another. His wiry frame and uncoordinated way of moving just screamed of malnutrition— as did the way he shuffled about, raising his feet as little as possible when he walked, hunched slightly over as if trying to escape notice. If only his attitude was as unassuming then he’d be almost as perfect a student as Mr. Longbottom who had yet to put so much as a hair out of line. But Potter seemed utterly uninterested in his studies, utterly…

Minerva’s focus on the paperwork in front of her was shattered as a speeding _something_ zoomed past her office window. Scowling in annoyance she stood and moved quickly to look out over the expansive grounds. Far below on the greens, she could see the first-year broom class huddled together, pale faces floating above black robes turned up to watch the unmistakable scrawny form of Harry Potter diving towards the ground at an outright suicidal speed. 

A wicked grin spread across Minerva’s lips as she cast about for a sight of Madam Hooch. Well now, that would just _not_ do.

“Tut-tut Mister Potter, flying without supervision? How very like you father,” She all but crooned. 

#### >||<

Just for a moment, as the wind whipped at his face and hair, as the blood pounded through his veins, as his vision sharpened— tracking the ever faster fall of Nevel’s Rememberall— Harry felt _alive._

All his worry over mysterious packages taken from Gringotts vaults, over not knowing anything about the magical world and making a fool of himself, over the eyes that seemed to follow him wherever he went, and whispers that chased nipping at his heels. It all vanished, torn away by the howling wind and plummeting fall. 

Then he was level with the remembrall, plucking it from the air with a motion that seemed oh so easy. With the precious sphere safely in hand, he pulled the nose of his broom up, leveling off inches from the grass before stepping easily off as though he’d done it a thousand times before. 

Applause instantly erupted not only from his fellow Gryffindors but also from many of the Slytherins, causing a bloom of a foreign warmth in his chest. It was an oddly filling feeling, as if the echoing cavern that seemed to forever suck in everything he felt was suddenly so full it overflowed.

Harry was just reflecting that he could get used to that warm feeling, when a voice cracked hard and sharp across the applause and cheers, silencing them instantly. 

The warmth fled from Harry’s chest, the sharp words of Professor McGonagall slamming into him like a hammer as she exploded from the castle like a greek fury— her robes billowing out behind her, such was the speed of her pace. 

“Potter! Just what do you think you are doing?” Already she was before him, looming over him as her gaze usually so neutral sharpened into a glare so full of disappointment and disapproval that it took all his strength to not let his quivering knees give way. “Well?” She prompted, “Nothing to say for yourself.” 

Harry gaped, opened his mouth, tried to force the words out, but he could not for the life of him come up with anything at all to say. He couldn’t ever raise the remembrall to show her, to try and explain that all he’d been trying to do was help... 

“Please professor he was trying—” Surprisingly it was Lavender Brown, who’d never spoken a word to him, who spoke up first trying to come to his defense. 

McGonagall didn’t give the girl a chance to finish, cutting her off mid-sentence, “Silence Miss Brown— excuses mean _nothing._ ”

Then she turned her attention, that cold stare, back to Harry, “Mister Potter that will be one hundred points from Gryffindor as I know Madam Hooch _expressly_ forbids any and _all_ flying in her absence. And due to the… excessive nature of your flight you will be coming with me to serve a detention as this was your final class of the day was it not?” 

“Y-yes professor,” he mumbled as heat bloomed across his cheeks from the number of points he’d lost his house. Glancing towards his friends in trepidation, Harry’s worst fears were confirmed when he saw the outrage on their faces turning to agery scowls, which they all too happily turned upon him. Suddenly detention with Professor McGonagall didn’t seem so bad.

“This way Mister Potter,” The professor ordered, spinning about and striding back towards the castle without a second's glance in his direction. 

He wasted no time in running after her, trying desperately to catch up with her long stride.

#### >||<

Minerva effortlessly suppressed the grin that tried to find its way to her lips as little Harry finally caught up to her just outside her office. He’d been forced to run in order to keep up with her longer stride, now his breaths were coming in short gasps and his pale face was flushed a delightful red that caused a thrill to shoot through her. 

Oh, how she wished she could just grab him and… but no. While such things were always an option thanks to the use of oblivion and other mental manipulation charms, she had learned long ago that it was a far more pleasurable experience to control her boys through non-magical means. 

Opening her office door with a tap of her wand she entered and stepped back, motioning for the panting boy to follow her in., 

“Take a seat, Mister Potter,” She commanded, motioning to one of the tall, straight-backed chairs in front of her desk.

Instantly he obeyed, moving quickly to hoist himself up onto the rather uncomfortable seat. By design chair’s legs were longer than average, causing Harry’s— along with almost all first and second years’— legs to dangle off in the air, unable to reach the ground. 

The unusual dimensions of the chairs were ostensibly explained by the raised dais her desk sat upon, a token attempt to place both guest and professor on the same level. At least, that was the impression it gave. Minerva, and every one of her guests over the years, student and parent alike, knew full well that instead, the seating arrangements gave a distinct impression of needing artificial aid in order to sit as her equal. It had proven to be a powerful tool for her and looked to already be affecting little Harry as he struggled to make himself more comfortable in the un-padded seat without the ability to put any of his weight on his feet. 

_“Let the games begin.”_ She mused, as she shrugged off her outer robes and deposited them on the stand beside the door. 

Standing behind Harry as she was, Minerva took the opportunity to— with a few silent flicks of her wand— smooth out her clothes and ensure no errant hairs had escaped the tight bun at the back of her head. 

Once she was certain that she was still the very image of controlled authority she stepped around her desk and sank easily down into the hand-carved, high-backed chair that was the only piece of furniture in her office not provided by Hogwarts or transfigured as needed. Once settled, she fixed Harry with a disapproving glare and began, “In future Mister Potter, when a Professor gives you an instruction you shall reply with ‘yes ma’am’ or ‘yes sir’ — do I make myself clear?”

“Yes professor,” he replied quickly, ducking his head. 

Minerva simply raised one eyebrow, her lips tightening into a thin, disapproving line. 

“I-I mean yes ma’am,” the boy stuttered out quickly, his face now positively glowing with embarrassment. 

“I shall be honest with you Potter— I am quite disappointed.” She paused for effect, watching in satisfaction as he managed to somehow wilt even further, oh he was just perfect! 

First, to earn his attention, bind his hopes and dreams to her willingness to engage with him. 

“I knew your parents you know—” and there he went, perking up as if an electric shock had run through him, “— such exceptional people, oh the stories I could tell you. When I heard their son was to attend and was to be my student as well, I must confess that I became quite eager to meet you. And then you were sorted into my own house!” As she spoke she allowed a trickle of warmth and excitement to color her tone, just enough to snare his attention. 

Hope-filled green eyes snapped up to meet her’s, she felt a twinge of annoyance at the thick glass obscuring them and added a new pair of spectacles to the list of things the boy needed. But for now, it was time to steal that hope from him…

“Imagine Mister Potter how I felt then when the first word of you that reached me as you head of house was a report of your being sullen, disrespectful, and worst of all unmotivated!” Now her voice turned hard, all warmth vanishing, “I can only imagine how disappointed you parents would be— after all _I_ am quite disappointed in you myself.” 

Like a whipped dog Harry flinched back, curling in on himself as he clutched his hands to his chest, eyes fixed on the floor in an attempt to hide the welling-up of tears. Arousal rolled over Minerva at the sight, causing her to once more consider simply taking what she wanted immediately. Fortunately for little Harry, she had ways to satisfy her urges in the short term, unfortunately for him Minerva’s arousal only served to spur her to further her plans. 

“Nothing to say for yourself I see. Well then, I suppose there is little more to say— now we must address your transgressions.” She said, affecting a sigh and shaking her head as she drew out the leatherbound book of shadows from her top desk drawer and opened it to a fresh page to which she deftly added the boy’s name as a heading. Then she began to list out his transgressions, speaking each one allowed as her quill scratched across the vellum page.

“First and foremost flying without supervision and against the direct and clear instructions of a Hogwarts Professor, an offense which has led to expulsion in the past— did you know that?” 

Ignoring the boy’s startled and clearly terrified squeak she continued, “Then there is your sullen attitude, an offense worth of losing house points. Speaking out of turn in an insolent fashion during class, worth _several_ detentions at least. And most worryingly, a showing of little effort and almost no interest in attending to your studies— you are aware Mister Potter that this is, in fact, an institution of magical learning _not_ your personal housing complex?”

She paused, fixing the boy with an expectant look. Forced to respond he shook his head frantically, the threat of potential expelling seeming to have had the desired effect of bringing on a not so minor panic attack as his chest rose and fell at an ever-faster pace as he began rocking back and forth in his seat. 

“I yes ma-ma’am I-I n-no ma’am,” He unraveled before her, bursting into tears as he forced a halting and half-formed response past his lips.

This had to be the easiest time she’d ever had, or perhaps she’d simply gotten better at pulling her boy’s strings after so much practice. Either way, it was going simply smashingly. Mentally Minerva moved her timetable up— usually, it took two or three weeks of prodding and not-so-subtle manipulations to break one down to this point. 

Pushing herself up, Minerva swept around her desk and moved to stand beside the shuddering boy— his tears having turned to sobs that he somehow managed to hold silently in, shaking like a leaf instead. Now that she was nearer to him she was also able to hear the words spilling from his lips, spoke more like a muttered mantra than an attempt at communication. 

“I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, please no, I'm sorry…” and on he went, not stopping to breathe or even move to show that he knew she’d drawn near. 

“Ush now, all will be well little on,” Minerva murmured as she wrapped her arms around her quaking student and pulled him into a warm embrace, cradling his head to her chest as she began rocking back and forth, humming an old Gaelic tune as she did so. 

Slowly, like the trickle of a frozen stream, Harry’s tears seemed to run out; only for him to hesitantly wrap his arms around her waist, returning the embrace. Minerva couldn’t help but smile at his actions, the hunger for affection and his easy acceptance of such an intimate contact suggested caused her chest to rumble with an approving purr— one of the many side effects of her having bonded her magic so tightly to that of a cat. 

“There there now, we shall find a way out of this yet,” She said once she felt his taught body begin to relax somewhat. 

Red rimmed eyes, puffy from hysterical tears and yet now shining with hope, looked up at Minerva from between her breasts. Now she had to force herself to keep from licking her lips. 

“You mean I w-wont be e-expelled?” he asked, the sort of hope and hunger which could only be born from desperation coloring his voice. 

Withdrawing from the embarrass— albeit reluctantly— Minerva nodded. “I believe so, but only if you are prepared to accept another form of punishment.” 

It was only thanks to their proximity and the fact that she was already staring into his eyes that Minerva was able to catch the shadow that passed over Harry’s face as she spoke the word ‘punishment’. Not the flicker of defiance or bristling bluster she was used to in her Gryffindors when faced with any sort of punishment, no matter how well earned. Rather it was that of past pain, the sort that left behind scars both visible and invisible…

He just kept getting better and better.

“Punishment?” He asked, voice quavering. 

“Yes Mister Potter, punishment for breaking rules and for not conducting yourself as you should,” She replied, moving back around her desk and sliding her chair away from her desk a bit before sitting back down. 

She could see the warring emotions in his face, the desire to avoid expulsion from Hogwarts at all cost clashing with memories he never wanted to live through again— it was the fear of a new sort of pain put up against the memory of known pain. Best, she decided, not to leave it up to chance and wait to see which won. 

“Come here, mister Potter.” She said firmly, her tone brooking no argument as she motioned to the floor at her side. 

In spite of the struggle still clearly playing out within him, Harry didn’t hesitate to push himself off his chair and drop to the floor. His steps however were hesitant, each one seemed to pause midway through, drawback slightly before he forced onward. The pace was slow enough to send a thrill of annoyance through Minerva. 

“Now Potter I haven’t all day.” She said, snapping her fingers as she did so. 

That was enough of a prod, causing Harry to scurry quickly around her desk, slowly to a stop only when he stood in the spot she’d indicated. Again his shoulders were slumped as she clasped he worried the bottom hem of his jumper with nervous fingers.

 _“Yes, just like that, there's a good boy.”_ she nodded to herself.

“Now remove your robe.” She ordered.

His only response was to glance up at her, confusion wrote clear in his eyes. Clucking her tongue in a disapproving way Minerva declined to respond to the unasked question, instead, she snatched up her wand and with a careless flick vanished the garment. 

“Potter, you have two choices— do exactly as I say and accept your punishment, or face expulsion from Hogwarts and the wizarding world… do you understand?” she asked, eyes hard as her brow set in an impatient from. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said, his voice meek, the words delightfully automatic.

“Very well.” she said, “Then choose now.” 

“Ma’am?” he asked, frowning in confusion. 

“You must say it Potter, Punishment or Expulsion.” She explained, allowing the impatience she was feeling to flood her tone, causing the boy to flinch back slightly in an oh-so adorable way.

He recovered quickly enough however and, in a voice almost too soft to hear said; “I’d rather the punishment ma’am.” 

“Then your choice is made.” She agreed firmly, then reached out and took hold of his hand and gently guided him into leaning over her lap. Frail as he was, it took little effort to force Harry into lying across her thighs, and a single hand wrapped firmly about the back of his neck was enough to keep him there. 

“Professor?” He asked, voice quivering in confusion and trepidation at the unexpected and unusual turn of events. 

“Be still Potter,” she snapped, “Pain is the surest teacher. Your father was the same way.” 

Another wave of her wand and his trousers undid themselves before they, along with his underclothes, rolled their way off his hips to pool at his knees. His gasp of surprise at the abrupt disrobing sent a bolt of heat shooting through Minerva’s core, the sight of his cute round butt bent over her thighs only added to the thrilling feeling. 

The first slap, delivered across his right buttock caused Harry to jerk violently and yelp in what she suspected was more surprise than actual pain. His pathetic attempts to rise up off her lap in response were so easily forestalled by the tightening of the hand gripping his neck. 

“That was just the beginning Potter,” she explained, resting her open palm on the rapidly reddening flesh, “Any more outbursts from you will only serve to worsen your punishment, do you understand?” 

“Yes ma’am” the response was quick, and to her delight already filled with the resigned foreboding of one who’d been faced with physical punishment before. 

Of course, she realized, the muggles he’d been placed with were the very worst sort. She had warned Dumbledore against them, alas, she’d been ignored and in the end, rewarded with the makings of what she suspected would become one of her most obedient students. 

“That's a good lad,” she encouraged, even as her hand came up and fell, now on the opposite cheek. This time no yelp of surprise or pain escaped the boy’s throat to cover up the satisfying crack of flesh slapping flesh. 

The third blow fell with a similar result. By the sixth, his cheeks were angry red from the repeated impacts and Minerva could feel him beginning to twitch and shudder as the reality of his fate began to truly sink in. On the ninths slap a half-muffled whimper issued from his lips, her own curled up in a sly grin at the sound— on she’d be drawing that sound out from him quite a few more times by the time she was finished. 

At fifteen the whimpering turned into a hiccupping sob, at twenty the shuddering had become a full-blown quaking shiver as his small body screamed out for the pain to stop. 

At thirty Minerva could feel the repeated abuse beginning to affect her hand, the thrilling sting of the slaps turning slowly into a steady ache of abused flesh. She felt it three blows later— the warm rush blooming suddenly across her right thigh even as the squirming boy broke down into uncontrolled weeping. 

“Hush little one we are almost there, only a few more to go.” She said, pausing to run her fingers gently across his abused skin. 

“P-please no m-more,” He gasped out, taking advantage of the short reprieve to beg her for mercy. It was a close thing, but somehow Minerva managed to hold in the chuckle that rose in her throat at the pathetic plea.

“Now now Mister Potter, there shall be none of that,” She snapped, punctuating her command with an especially vicious blow across the more heavily bruised side of his rear. 

Now _that_ elicited a true scream, high pitched and desperate. It was music to Minerva’s ears.

“Now what did I say about outbursts like that?” She demanded, then before he could respond, “And just look at what you have done!” she let anger fill her voice as she pulled him off her lap and making use of her hold on his neck, forced him to look down at the damp spot on her skirt.

Shame bloomed crimson across his face as he realized what he’d done. 

“Well, mister Potter? Nothing to say for yourself?” She demanded, releasing him so that he could stand on his own will. 

“Professor I d-don’t I…” He trailed off, curling once more in upon himself as the tears came hard and fast. 

Now, Minerva decided, he was properly prepared. Shame and pain were a delightfully powerful form of torture, used together they could break down even the most resolute of egos. And while Harry Potter was many things, in possession of a strong and resilient ego he was not. 

Now she reached out and once more wrapped her arms around the crying boy. Immediately his small hands fisted in her blazer, desperately clutching to her as the sobs wracked his body. 

“Oh there there laddy, hush now it’s alright,” She crooned, “I am so very sorry it had to be this way Harry, you understand why don’t you?” 

A pause, then she felt his head moving in a slow nod, “Y-yes ma’am.”

“Any why did I have to punish you, Harry?” She prompted, knowing that now all it would take was for him to admit it, to say it out loud and bind himself to her truth. 

“Be-because I b-broke the rules.” Minerva could feel a whole new kind of dampness running down her thighs at those sweet, sweet words.

“That’s right, Harry. Now, will you break any rules again? Will you make me punish you again?” She asked, forcing her tone to become strained and worry to color her words.

“No!” Harry cried, pulling away from her and looking up with fear-filled eyes. Oh, how she wanted to taste those full, quivering lips. 

“I believe you _mean_ that Harry,” She said before releasing him.

At the sudden lack of support, he stumbled and tripped over his trousers, still bunched up around his knees. Only Minerva’s quick reflexes allowed her to reach out and grab his arm, her hand keeping him from falling. 

With a few flicks of her wand which she retrieved from the top of her desk, Minerva had Harry re-dressed. 

“Now have a seat, Harry,” She ordered, motioning to the chair in front of her desk. She watched with no small amount of interest as he stepped hesitantly around her desk and began to oh so gingerly raise himself up onto the seat. As he did so she absentmindedly vanished the urine dampening her skirt and stockings, then cast a silent scouring spell to remove the last of its scent from the air. 

Once her new toy… _student_ , was seated, his face scrunched up in barely contained discomfort thanks to his abused little butt which she knew would soon enough be black and blue from the abuse she’d rained down on it, Minerva began.

“I know you’ve said you won't break any more rules Harry— but I fear you don’t know them well enough to not break them.” 

“Professor?” He asked, real fear coloring his words. 

“Don’t worry Harry, if you want I can teach them to you, would you like that?” She prompted. 

He nodded quickly, “Yes Professor.” “Be specific Harry,” She said, forcing her words to soften as she said them. 

His face creased in confusion for a beat before; “I promise I’ll be a good boy.” 

  
  



End file.
